


please pull me in and hug me

by lililtoast



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, and then they smooch and hold each other, its just sappy and nothing else really happens, uhmmm the beginning portion is just a recap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lililtoast/pseuds/lililtoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aldebaran and Dorian share a quiet moment together after the events at the Winter Palace. There’s something so comforting in standing together, intertwined, that Aldebaran never realized he needed.</p><p>Chapter 1 is Character Specific, Chapter 2 is Non-Character Specific</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Leaning against the railing of the balcony, Aldebaran sighed, looking down at the old blood still caked into his nail beds from the night’s battles. Smears of red decorated his skin, stubborn stains that had refused to come off when he had cleaned earlier. Despite how much the Nobles enjoyed the scandal of battles and murder, they still looked at gore with disdain. Aldebaran supposed that was just how Nobles were; they enjoyed spectacles, but couldn’t bother to deal with the aftermaths. **  
**

Aldebaran let out another sigh, soft as the breeze blowing past him, letting his eyes fall shut in defeat as he balled his hands into fists. Coming here he had known that the night would be eventful, and had even presumed that _somebody_ would be dying, but there was no way for him to have known just how many people were going to die. He couldn’t help but feel that the death toll was his fault, couldn’t help but feel that he could have done something to prevent it all.

One hand raised, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think of all the deaths he had faced thus far, and how many more he would have to face in the future. So many lives he could have saved, yet _couldn’t_ , because of his own weakness.

The sudden sound of footsteps behind him drew him out of his thoughts, and he slumped, hands bracing on the railing as his beloved came to stand beside him, a small smile coming across his features at Dorian’s words.

“There was an ancient dowager looking for you; Said she had twelve daughters! I told her you’d left already. You can thank me later. Or now.” The other male spoke as though he was retelling a tale of grandeur; Aldebaran couldn’t help but give the smallest of smiles, meeting Dorian’s warm gaze with a sheltered look of his own.

A fraction of a second passed before Dorian’s shone with worry, and he leaned closer in, meeting Aldebaran’s gaze fearlessly.

“…But you look lost in thought. Something…on your mind?” he questioned, leaving the conversation open for Aldebaran to escape, if he wished to.

 _Always so considerate_ , Aldebaran mused. It seemed Dorian always gave every conversation a route of escape, leaving the decision up to Aldebaran whether they should continue or not. The elf sighed, carding a hand through his white locks and straightening ever so slightly, opening up to his Ma’vhenan.

“I’m just- worn out. Tonight has been… very long.” To say it was long was an understatement; Aldebaran felt _drained_. He wasn’t meant for this. For war, death, and the stress of having his _every movement_ watched.

The sound of Dorian laughing in response was not something he was expecting, and he straightened back ever so slightly, looking at the mage inquisitively. The tanner male raised a gloved hand to gesticulate, returning Aldebaran’s questioning gaze with an amused look.

“You _won_. You saved the day, literally! The day is saved,” Dorian praised, shaking his head fondly, “You should be _celebrating_. Enjoy yourself while you can.”

Aldebaran held back the _there is no time to be celebrating_ that threatened to escape, keeping his mouth shut as his mind reeled with all the future possibilities for Corypheus to attack them. No doubt the Elder One would be furious when he learned of this, and was likely already plotting ways to destroy Aldebaran and all of the inquisition. His shoulders slumped even further, and the lithe elf seemed to shrink in on himself, a mixture of fear and guilt wracking his core.

The Tevinter let out a soft sigh. He had hoped his praise would have left his Amatus feeling more at ease, but clearly that was not the case. He waved his hand to gain the attention of the Inquisitor, straightening from the balcony as a charming smile crossed over his features.

“What you _need_ is a distraction. I have just the thing,” he hummed, stepping back from the railing and giving the smallest of bows with a flourish of his hand. “Let’s _dance_.” He waited for the Inquisitor’s response, of a flurry of emotion seeming to cross over the elf’s delicate features, before finally the male seemed to come to a decision.

Aldebaran snorted, stepping forward and shaking his head in amusement as his gloveless hand clasped Dorian’s gloved one. Relief rushed through him at the feeling of security that contact with Dorian gave, and he smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask,” Aldebaran replied, letting himself be pulled into the Tevinter’s sturdy embrace.

A relieved smile came across Dorian’s face as the Inquisitor accepted, and he chuckled, pulling the small elf closer yet. “Thank goodness _one_ of us has a little initiative,” he teased, intertwining their fingers as they began to waltz on the cold stone of the balcony.

It took a few moments for them to match their rhythms, Dorian’s steps just the slightest bit wider  and Aldebaran’s movements minisculely faster. After stepping on Dorian’s toes one too many times, Aldebaran couldn’t help but give a small snort, leaning his head on the taller male’s shoulder. How silly it was for them to be dancing here while the whole of Orlais and Ferelden succumbed to chaos; yet Aldebaran, for once, couldn’t bring himself to deny himself this small pleasure.

Dorian moved one arm to encircle Aldebaran’s shoulders, sighing as they continued to dance and sway together. With one hand now free, Aldebaran encircled the Tevinter’s waist, leaning against him fully and pressing his forehead against the other’s broad shoulder. Moments like these were rare, and Aldebaran doubted they’d have another chance to be quite so intimate any time soon. Between hunting and gathering and battling off swarms of undead, there was _surprisingly_ little time to hold each other.

Even when they were given respite in Skyhold, they still weren’t free from the peering eyes of their comrades and sponsors. Regardless of how much Aldebaran insisted he wasn’t bothered by the rumours, he couldn’t deny that they didn’t occasionally make him feel ashamed. He knew there was nothing wrong with him being with and _loving_ another male, and felt more than honored to know that Dorian wanted back. But regardless of how true his feelings for Dorian were and how much he cared for him, just knowing that other people looked at them with disdain _hurt._ Aldebaran wasn’t concerned for his own approval so much as he wanted people to treasure and cherish Dorian like he did.

Instead, they only saw Dorian as the Tevinter who had _captured_ the Inquisitor, as though he was holding Aldebaran in the relationship against his will.

The Dalish elf blew out a soft sigh, hands raking over Dorian’s toned back as he tried to dispel the thoughts from his mind. What did it matter what others thought? So long as the two were living, Aldebaran refused to let his feelings be swayed by others’ petty opinions.

Dorian seemed to notice Aldebaran’s inner conflict, the elf’s body too stiff to be relaxed and his expression too twisted to be in peace of mind. The Tevinter hummed, raising a hand to smooth the crease between Aldebaran’s finely groomed eyebrows, smiling softly as the elf’s gold eyes flicked open to meet his own.

“Now, now, Amatus. I’m amazed you can focus on other matters when the most beautiful man in all of Thedas is holding you. Dare I inquire as to what is troubling you this time, my love?” His hand moved from between his brows to cup the rogue’s face, other hand rubbing smooth circles over his shoulder blades. “Always so tense, darling. You know, I’m quite skilled in helping people _unwind._ You should let me help you with that some time.”

Aldebaran scoffed, rolling his eyes and holding Dorian ever so slightly closer, pressing his face against the side of the taller male’s neck. “Perhaps you’d be willing to do that when we get back to Skyhold? I do fear it will be rather late, and I am positive _many_ people will be sleeping by then,” he responded, letting silence spread between them as he avoided Dorian’s initial question. The longer they stood together, the more their steps slowed, until they were left swaying gently to the soft melodies filtering in from the open doors.

“I’m worried, Dorian,” he admitted, sighing as his eyes fell shut. “I care for you, ma’vhenan. I think- more than I’ve ever cared for anyone before. It’s– I know it doesn’t _matter_ what other’s think, that it shouldn’t bother me.” His words were soft, barely audible as he curled closer to the tall Tevinter, almost trying to shrink in on himself. “But there is already so much in the world acting against us. I don’t _understand_ why our comrades must fight this, too.”

As Dorian listened, understanding began to overcome him, and his movements on the elf’s back gradually slowed, his steps becoming stiffer. As Aldebaran finished talking, the mage took a brief moment to collect his thoughts, letting out a weighted sigh.

“If I knew why people looked down on us, Amatus, you can rest assured that I would have already had a solution by now.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against Aldebaran’s temple. Their faces were close, chests pressed heart to heart. Like this, Dorian could see the faint freckles decorating Aldebaran’s cheekbones. He felt his heart swell the longer he looked at this man, _his_ beloved. What he wouldn’t give to protect this fragile soul from the world. Had he the power, Dorian would take away all the pain and worry Aldebaran had ever faced, if only to see Aldebaran smile.

 _Anything_ to see him smile.

He pressed gentle, fleeting kisses along the elf’s skin, pulling Aldebaran impossibly closer as he did. The elf grunted as his body was pressed against Dorian’s, nose wrinkling at the delicate touches he was graced with. As the barrage of kisses continued, Aldebaran couldn’t help but snort, tilting his head away in an attempt to avoid the kisses.

“Dorian. Dorian- _Ma’vhenan_ , what are you- oh, Maker,” he protested, smiling wide as Dorian dipped him in his hold ever so slightly, holding the elf firmly around his waist. “You are terrible. Truly, truly terrible. How do I stand you, Emma Lath?”

The Tevinter snickered, refusing to cease his kissing even as Aldebaran tried to pull away. “Aren’t you quite the catch? Adorable, really,” he murmured between kisses, smiling down at his beloved. “You can’t really think that I _believe_ this little charade? I see that smile, Amatus. There’s no use denying that you _enjoy_ this, my dear,” Dorian teased, pausing for a brief moment so he could examine the soft blush that had spread over the elf’s cheekbones. Aldebaran flicked his eyes up to meet Dorian’s gaze, and the blush grew even greater, Dorian snickering in return. “Maybe I really _did_ use some form of blood magic. How ever _did_ I ensnare such a lovely being?”

“You are _terrible_ , Dorian. Ah, ma’ghilana mir din'an! I am dead, I am dead!” he said dramatically, pressing his head to his forehead in mock dismay. “The dreadfully charming Pavus has stolen my heart, how ever will I live?” he teased in return, before letting his hand drop from his head, staring Dorian down with a challenging smile. A beat of silence passed between them, both males trying to resist the smiles that threatened to spread, before the two were snickering, burying their faces in each other.

Dorian pulled Aldebaran closer, straightening back until they were standing straight again, even as the two continued to snicker. He held the rogue close by his shoulders, shaking his head fondly and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Happily ever after, might I suggest? Ah, ah, I am wounded. You make it sound like being with me is so _torturous_ ,” he murmured, voice becoming softer, feeling that the moment had become more intimate.

Aldebaran sighed, daring to smile up at his love. “It is torturous. Do you know how difficult it is to go through the day and _not_ be able to waltz up and kiss you any moment I please? I should be praised for the hardship I’ve had to put up with,” he whined, moving onto his toes so he could press a chaste kiss to Dorian’s cheek.

The taller male snorted, moving his hand so he could tilt Aldebaran’s chin up. “Who ever said you _couldn’t_ kiss me whenever you please? Darling, _why_ should we let ourselves be ashamed of this, of _us_ , just because some people look down on it? Kiss me whenever you want, I _encourage_ the practice.” As if to drive the point further, he leaned in, tilting his chin up further so he could press a firm kiss to the elf’s lips.

A muffled noise of surprise left the Inquisitor, but he quickly melted into the feeling, letting his eyes fall shut as he kissed the Tevinter back. Their height difference made kissing a bit of a challenge at times, but with Dorian leaning down, Aldebaran could thankfully reach him well enough to kiss him back whole-heartedly. Gloved hands moved to tangle in swept back white locks, angling Aldebaran’s face as he pressed closer, both men breaking apart panting a moment later.

Glossed gold eyes stared openly into hazel ones, and Aldebaran felt his heart skip a beat as Dorian smiled at him. The elf coughed at the sudden intimacy of the moment, ducking his head and hiding it in Dorian’s chest, leaving the Tevinter chuckling.

“Still so shy, Amatus.”

“Still so forward, Ma’hvenan,” he lamented, shaking his head fondly and trying not to let his heart pound out of his chest. “Why do I care for you so much? Ah, aneth ara, aneth ara,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Dorian’s cheek again.

Dorian couldn’t help but smile, registering the few words of elvish Aldebaran had taught him. He released the elf from his hold only so he could cup his smooth face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together.

“Maybe that time magic _would_ have been useful. We could make this night go on, forever, and ever, if we wished,” he mused, the silence from the ballroom giving him the forewarning that their pleasant moment was about to end.

“If we win this, we can have all the silent moments and slow dances one could ask for,” Aldebaran answered, the weight of their problems slowly easing themselves back onto his shoulders. They let silence pass between them, Aldebaran’s hands holding Dorian’s as they cupped his face, both males’ eyes closed, before the elf spoke up, voice soft, almost frightened. “Ma’hvenan?”

The Tevinter gave a soft hum, rubbing light circles over Aldebaran’s cheek with his thumb, eyebrow raising. “Amatus?”

The elf swallowed, leaning in ever so slightly closer. His heart pulsed wildly in his chest as he contemplated his words, fingers gripping Dorian’s hands a fraction tighter. He licked his lips, eyes flickering open to gaze at Dorian’s features. Dorian felt the shift in the other’s demeanor, and let his own eyes open to meet Aldebaran’s with a steady look. The silence between them was pregnant, and after what felt like an eternity, Aldebaran finally spoke up, heart swelling in his chest as the words fell out.

“ _Ar lath ma,_ Ma’vhenan.”

Every moment was agony as he watched Dorian’s face and studied his response, the Tevinter going through a range of expressions, before a wide smile finally broke out on his face, a flush decorating his cheeks beautifully. Dorian leaned in, kissing the bridge of his nose, before gently whispering back his response.

“I love you, too, Amatus.”


	2. Chapter 2

Leaning against the railing of the balcony, Lavellan sighed, looking down at the old blood still caked into his nail beds from the night’s battles. Smears of red decorated his skin, stubborn stains that had refused to come off when he had cleaned earlier. Despite how much the Nobles enjoyed the scandal of battles and murder, they still looked at gore with disdain. Lavellan supposed that was just how Nobles were; they enjoyed spectacles, but couldn’t bother to deal with the aftermaths.

Lavellan let out another sigh, soft as the breeze blowing past him, letting his eyes fall shut in defeat as he balled his hands into fists. Coming here he had known that the night would be eventful, and had even presumed that somebody would be dying, but there was no way for him to have known just how many people were going to die. He couldn’t help but feel that the death toll was his fault, couldn’t help but feel that he could have done something to prevent it all.

One hand raised, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think of all the deaths he had faced thus far, and how many more he would have to face in the future. So many lives he could have saved, yet couldn’t, because of his own weakness.

The sudden sound of footsteps behind him drew him out of his thoughts, and he slumped, hands bracing on the railing as his beloved came to stand beside him, a small smile coming across his features at Dorian’s words.

“There was an ancient dowager looking for you; Said she had twelve daughters! I told her you’d left already. You can thank me later. Or now.” The other male spoke as though he was retelling a tale of grandeur; Lavellan couldn’t help but give the smallest of smiles, meeting Dorian’s warm gaze with a sheltered look of his own.

A fraction of a second passed before Dorian’s shone with worry, and he leaned closer in, meeting Lavellan’s gaze fearlessly.

“…But you look lost in thought. Something…on your mind?” he questioned, leaving the conversation open for Lavellan to escape, if he wished to.

Always so considerate, Lavellan mused. It seemed Dorian always gave every conversation a route of escape, leaving the decision up to Lavellan whether they should continue or not. The elf sighed, carding a hand through his locks and straightening ever so slightly, opening up to his Ma’vhenan.

“I’m just- worn out. Tonight has been… very long.” To say it was long was an understatement; Lavellan felt drained. He wasn’t meant for this. For war, death, and the stress of having his every movement watched.

The sound of Dorian laughing in response was not something he was expecting, and he straightened back ever so slightly, looking at the mage inquisitively. The tanner male raised a gloved hand to gesticulate, returning Lavellan’s questioning gaze with an amused look.

“You won. You saved the day, literally! The day is saved,” Dorian praised, shaking his head fondly, “You should be celebrating. Enjoy yourself while you can.”

Lavellan held back the there is no time to be celebrating that threatened to escape, keeping his mouth shut as his mind reeled with all the future possibilities for Corypheus to attack them. No doubt the Elder One would be furious when he learned of this, and was likely already plotting ways to destroy Lavellan and all of the inquisition. His shoulders slumped even further, and the lithe elf seemed to shrink in on himself, a mixture of fear and guilt wracking his core.

The Tevinter let out a soft sigh. He had hoped his praise would have left his Amatus feeling more at ease, but clearly that was not the case. He waved his hand to gain the attention of the Inquisitor, straightening from the balcony as a charming smile crossed over his features.

“What you need is a distraction. I have just the thing,” he hummed, stepping back from the railing and giving the smallest of bows with a flourish of his hand. “Let’s dance.” He waited for the Inquisitor’s response, of a flurry of emotion seeming to cross over the elf’s delicate features, before finally the male seemed to come to a decision.

Lavellan snorted, stepping forward and shaking his head in amusement as his gloveless hand clasped Dorian’s gloved one. Relief rushed through him at the feeling of security that contact with Dorian gave, and he smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask,” Lavellan replied, letting himself be pulled into the Tevinter’s sturdy embrace.

A relieved smile came across Dorian’s face as the Inquisitor accepted, and he chuckled, pulling the small elf closer yet. “Thank goodness one of us has a little initiative,” he teased, intertwining their fingers as they began to waltz on the cold stone of the balcony.

It took a few moments for them to match their rhythms, Dorian’s steps just the slightest bit wider and Lavellan’s movements minisculely faster. After stepping on Dorian’s toes one too many times, Lavellan couldn’t help but give a small snort, leaning his head on the taller male’s shoulder. How silly it was for them to be dancing here while the whole of Orlais and Ferelden succumbed to chaos; yet Lavellan , for once, couldn’t bring himself to deny himself this small pleasure.

Dorian moved one arm to encircle Lavellan’s shoulders, sighing as they continued to dance and sway together. With one hand now free, Lavellan encircled the Tevinter’s waist, leaning against him fully and pressing his forehead against the other’s broad shoulder. Moments like these were rare, and Lavellan doubted they’d have another chance to be quite so intimate any time soon. Between hunting and gathering and battling off swarms of undead, there was surprisingly little time to hold each other.

Even when they were given respite in Skyhold, they still weren’t free from the peering eyes of their comrades and sponsors. Regardless of how much Lavellan insisted he wasn’t bothered by the rumours, he couldn’t deny that they didn’t occasionally make him feel ashamed. He knew there was nothing wrong with him being with and loving another male, and felt more than honored to know that Dorian wanted back. But regardless of how true his feelings for Dorian were and how much he cared for him, just knowing that other people looked at them with disdain hurt. Lavellan wasn’t concerned for his own approval so much as he wanted people to treasure and cherish Dorian like he did.

Instead, they only saw Dorian as the Tevinter who had captured the Inquisitor, as though he was holding Lavellan in the relationship against his will.

The Dalish elf blew out a soft sigh, hands raking over Dorian’s toned back as he tried to dispel the thoughts from his mind. What did it matter what others thought? So long as the two were living, Lavellan refused to let his feelings be swayed by others’ petty opinions.

Dorian seemed to notice Lavellan’s inner conflict, the elf’s body too stiff to be relaxed and his expression too twisted to be in peace of mind. The Tevinter hummed, raising a hand to smooth the crease between Lavellan’s finely groomed eyebrows, smiling softly as the elf’s eyes flicked open to meet his own.

“Now, now, Amatus. I’m amazed you can focus on other matters when the most beautiful man in all of Thedas is holding you. Dare I inquire as to what is troubling you this time, my love?” His hand moved from between his brows to cup the Inquisitor’s face, other hand rubbing smooth circles over his shoulder blades. “Always so tense, darling. You know, I’m quite skilled in helping people unwind. You should let me help you with that some time.”

Lavellan scoffed, rolling his eyes and holding Dorian ever so slightly closer, pressing his face against the side of the taller male’s neck. “Perhaps you’d be willing to do that when we get back to Skyhold? I do fear it will be rather late, and I am positive many people will be sleeping by then,” he responded, letting silence spread between them as he avoided Dorian’s initial question. The longer they stood together, the more their steps slowed, until they were left swaying gently to the soft melodies filtering in from the open doors.

“I’m worried, Dorian,” he admitted, sighing as his eyes fell shut. “I care for you, ma’vhenan. I think- more than I’ve ever cared for anyone before. It’s– I know it doesn’t matter what other’s think, that it shouldn’t bother me.” His words were soft, barely audible as he curled closer to the tall Tevinter, almost trying to shrink in on himself. “But there is already so much in the world acting against us. I don’t understand why our comrades must fight this, too.”

As Dorian listened, understanding began to overcome him, and his movements on the elf’s back gradually slowed, his steps becoming stiffer. As Lavellan finished talking, the mage took a brief moment to collect his thoughts, letting out a weighted sigh.

“If I knew why people looked down on us, Amatus, you can rest assured that I would have already had a solution by now.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against Lavellan’s temple. Their faces were close, chests pressed heart to heart. Like this, Dorian could see the faint freckles decorating Lavellan’s cheekbones. He felt his heart swell the longer he looked at this man, his beloved. What he wouldn’t give to protect this fragile soul from the world. Had he the power, Dorian would take away all the pain and worry Lavellan had ever faced, if only to see Lavellan smile.

Anything to see him smile.

He pressed gentle, fleeting kisses along the elf’s skin, pulling Lavellan impossibly closer as he did. The elf grunted as his body was pressed against Dorian’s, nose wrinkling at the delicate touches he was graced with. As the barrage of kisses continued, Lavellan couldn’t help but snort, tilting his head away in an attempt to avoid the kisses.

“Dorian. Dorian- Ma’vhenan, what are you- oh, Maker,” he protested, smiling wide as Dorian dipped him in his hold ever so slightly, holding the elf firmly around his waist. “You are terrible. Truly, truly terrible. How do I stand you, Emma Lath?”

The Tevinter snickered, refusing to cease his kissing even as Lavellan tried to pull away. “Aren’t you quite the catch? Adorable, really,” he murmured between kisses, smiling down at his beloved. “You can’t really think that I believe this little charade? I see that smile, Amatus. There’s no use denying that you enjoy this, my dear,” Dorian teased, pausing for a brief moment so he could examine the soft blush that had spread over the elf’s cheekbones. Lavellan flicked his eyes up to meet Dorian’s gaze, and the blush grew even greater, Dorian snickering in return. “Maybe I really did use some form of blood magic. How ever did I ensnare such a lovely being?”

“You are terrible, Dorian. Ah, ma’ghilana mir din'an! I am dead, I am dead!” he said dramatically, pressing his head to his forehead in mock dismay. “The dreadfully charming Pavus has stolen my heart, how ever will I live?” he teased in return, before letting his hand drop from his head, staring Dorian down with a challenging smile. A beat of silence passed between them, both males trying to resist the smiles that threatened to spread, before the two were snickering, burying their faces in each other.

Dorian pulled Lavellan closer, straightening back until they were standing straight again, even as the two continued to snicker. He held the Inquisitor close by his shoulders, shaking his head fondly and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Happily ever after, might I suggest? Ah, ah, I am wounded. You make it sound like being with me is so torturous,” he murmured, voice becoming softer, feeling that the moment had become more intimate.

Lavellan sighed, daring to smile up at his love. “It is torturous. Do you know how difficult it is to go through the day and not be able to waltz up and kiss you any moment I please? I should be praised for the hardship I’ve had to put up with,” he whined, moving onto his toes so he could press a chaste kiss to Dorian’s cheek.

The taller male snorted, moving his hand so he could tilt Lavellan’s chin up. “Who ever said you couldn’t kiss me whenever you please? Darling, why should we let ourselves be ashamed of this, of us, just because some people look down on it? Kiss me whenever you want, I encourage the practice.” As if to drive the point further, he leaned in, tilting his chin up further so he could press a firm kiss to the elf’s lips.

A muffled noise of surprise left the Inquisitor, but he quickly melted into the feeling, letting his eyes fall shut as he kissed the Tevinter back. Their height difference made kissing a bit of a challenge at times, but with Dorian leaning down, Lavellan could thankfully reach him well enough to kiss him back whole-heartedly. Gloved hands moved to tangle in soft locks, angling Lavellan’s face as he pressed closer, both men breaking apart panting a moment later.

Glossed eyes stared openly into hazel ones, and Lavellan felt his heart skip a beat as Dorian smiled at him. The elf coughed at the sudden intimacy of the moment, ducking his head and hiding it in Dorian’s chest, leaving the Tevinter chuckling.

“Still so shy, Amatus.”

“Still so forward, Ma’hvenan,” he lamented, shaking his head fondly and trying not to let his heart pound out of his chest. “Why do I care for you so much? Ah, aneth ara, aneth ara,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Dorian’s cheek again.

Dorian couldn’t help but smile, registering the few words of elvish Lavellan had taught him. He released the elf from his hold only so he could cup his smooth face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together.

“Maybe that time magic would have been useful. We could make this night go on, forever, and ever, if we wished,” he mused, the silence from the ballroom giving him the forewarning that their pleasant moment was about to end.

“If we win this, we can have all the silent moments and slow dances one could ask for,” Lavellan answered, the weight of their problems slowly easing themselves back onto his shoulders. They let silence pass between them, Lavellan’s hands holding Dorian’s as they cupped his face, both males’ eyes closed, before the elf spoke up, voice soft, almost frightened. “Ma’hvenan?”

The Tevinter gave a soft hum, rubbing light circles over Lavellan’s cheek with his thumb, eyebrow raising. “Amatus?”

The elf swallowed, leaning in ever so slightly closer. His heart pulsed wildly in his chest as he contemplated his words, fingers gripping Dorian’s hands a fraction tighter. He licked his lips, eyes flickering open to gaze at Dorian’s features. Dorian felt the shift in the other’s demeanor, and let his own eyes open to meet Lavellan’s with a steady look. The silence between them was pregnant, and after what felt like an eternity, Lavellan finally spoke up, heart swelling in his chest as the words fell out.

“Ar lath ma, Ma’vhenan.”

Every moment was agony as he watched Dorian’s face and studied his response, the Tevinter going through a range of expressions, before a wide smile finally broke out on his face, a flush decorating his cheeks beautifully. Dorian leaned in, kissing the bridge of his nose, before gently whispering back his response.

“I love you, too, Amatus.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope to make more fics for dragon age ahhh i love this game and dorian and all of these ships fsdgdgj


End file.
